AT LAST SIR TERRY WE MUST WALK TOGETHER
by schak
Summary: This is a translation of my own ff. It's a goodbye to a man that let me into this fantastic world he created. Thank you Sir Terry Pratchett.


It wasn't a grey day and it wasn't even raining. Sir Vimes didn't think that's was right. It should be raining on this day. What was narriativum for, if it couldn't even take care of this small sort of things(1). Yes it should rain today. That would be right. It definitely should be one of first nice days in the year, when the temperature rise high enough to be called warm again or at least compared to the cold and wet weather of last couple of months. When you can leave the house without the additional clothe layers you got used to. When you feel completely dry for the first time in ages and the constant thin rain doesn't creep under your clothes without getting the them really wet. No it shouldn't be like this, about this Vimes was sure. But that seemed to be the only thing he was sure about. He didn't know why it should rain enough to overflow the river and flowed the city in its own dirt. But it should be like this, he clearly felt that and the city felt it too. The people looked around them and up the sky just to shake their heads and to hurry away. Vimes boots found the way to the watch all on their own, that they to the commander who was wearing them with them was just a lucky accident. The city was quite and Ankh-Morpork was never quite. Something strange was going on. As he crossed the bridge he looked down to the river. Even the water wasn't right. Contradictory to all past experiences it was in a stat that had to be called fluid, even the crust on top(2). Right now the bridge had more importance then to keep the boots a bit cleaner.

When he was near the main watch, he noticed that every guard in the city had the same idea as him. Everybody was there(3). Everybody was heading to the Sator square, but a guard first meets up with all the other guards when trouble appears. Probably an inbred survival instinct that gets activated as soon as you become a guard/policeman/anything like this. A policeman in general is a pack animal, there are a few so called lone wolves, but those specimen not only have a decreased life span but normally have a lacking personal hygiene as well alone with other unbecoming habits and even than you have to be a asshole. Not even Nobby was turned into one. Together they went to the Sator square. When the story is told years and years later it's said that they just started to move all at once, without order. It's said that they marshes in lockstep though the streets without saying a word (as the rain came down on them). That was of course rubbish. They talked the whole time. Something was happening and nobody knew what. Of course Vimes have the order to marsh and, to make sure even the once in the last row get it, Detritus had to repeat it and then they had to decide in what order they are going to follow that order. And that this whole lockstep business was impossible gets quite obvious when you take a single look at the watch. It was members of all kinds of species, from gnome to golem, apart from the fact that they had Nobby and for I'm it was simply impossible to be in lockstep with anyone at all.

The only people they meet on their way were heading in the same direction as them. When they finally arrived, Vimes noticed that obvious every single person from Ankh-Morpork was here too and he knew that even the Sator square didn't have enough space for that. But it was true. Every single guild was here with every single member, not just the heads. He saw the citizens andall other small time criminals, the big time criminals and other people who had more money for everybody else good, the wizards and priests stood there peacefully next to each other, even Vetinari was here. Yes everyone and more. People who shouldn't be here, who didn't look as if there have ever been in Ankh-Morpork or any city, people who left long ago and those who shouldn't be alive at all. He looked around to his guards and it held true. Every single guard that had ever in the watch seemed to stand there. As real and substantial as his own shadow, in a reality just one step to the left from his one. Everybody was looking to the middle which was deserted, contradictory to the fact that every single bit of space was taken up by multiple of people. In the very center of the place was a grave. This was very obvious, you could see it, you could feel it, you just know it for sure, even if it looked like a desk with a big black hat on it.

Vimes looked around and watched the people. He saw a group of people that seem to scream barbaric heroes apart of the from the fact that they were at least half a century to old for it. They bowed their heads in respect, as if mourning a fallen brother. Somewhere else the wizards stood next to the priests completely without fighting. He could hear a group of women talk. The only thing they all at in common was that they all wore a pointy black hat. Even if one of them wore a crown at the some time. Not comically atop of each other but clearly sparkly from each other at the same time.

"Granny what is going on? Where are we?" "We are here and now." "Are you sure? This is still Lancre?" "Don't be stupid. I said we are here and now, don't you listen?" An other young woman got involved in the conservation. "And where and when is that?" "Everywhere and anytime."

Next to him he heard Reg taking with his landlady. "The worst." "What is this? What happened? Oh..."

Finally the librarian went up to the desk. He carried a big book in his hands and put it with the greatest care on the desk. "Ugh."(4) When he stretched his neck and got on his tiptoes he was able to read its title. It was: The true and complete real history of the diskworld. But it was strange to look at the book. It seemed to be heavier and to take up more space in room and time than any object of this size should be allowed to and it has an extra portion of reality on it (5).

After the strongest and heaviest member of the university stepped back away from the desk again it was clear for everyone not to see, as if shone upon it with pure darkness, how a man sat at the desk with a white beard and the black hat on his head. He opened the book at the last page and caressed it one last time when a huge person in a rope infinity black like a black hole, with a scythe shape as blue light appeared next to him.

AT LAST, SIR TERRY, WE MUST WALK TOGETHER.

Terry took death's arm and followed him through the doors and on to the black desert under the endless night.

THE END.

Everything was quiet. Vimes didn't know what would happen next.

"Napkins. New napkins, perfect to cry into. Get them now!"

It was strange that the world didn't just stop but it was the biggest relief that Ankh-Morpork was still here and alive and still Ankh-Morpork. The crowd was slowly fainting away. When he looked back the desk had disappeared too or at least it wasn't visible anymore.

"Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?"

(1) This wasn't how narritivum was working. With time passing it will have rained on this day and it wouldn't matter if the experienced reality in that moment was for the people living it. It people's minds often overlook the real reality in favor for a fake one just because it happened at that moment.

(2) This resulted in a very bad surprise for some ducks who against all hostility live on the Ankh. They actually evolved to optimito this life. Most important they live on top of the river, like walking on it. It had been generations since the last duck swam in it. This whole swimming business became an old legend and mockery about their primitive, rural cousins. By then their feet got a thick profile, apart from that they started to carry pointy stab with them to pick holes into the crust of the Ankh. This things were quite reasonable and understandable evolutions, but no-one could ever find a reason why they started to wear a felt hat with feathers and hairs of defeat opponents pinned to it, particularly because the females actually find them very unfashionable.

(3) Even those who had they free day or where supposed to be at their grandmas funeral.

(4) This was an expression of grief that no human language can even come close to.

(5) Sometimes one special book is enough to bend the B-room.


End file.
